The Blue Bird
by dolly.the.sheep
Summary: Earth, 1941. The Battle of Britain is taking place over the English Channel, and there's something else in the air apart from Germans and English ... can the Doctor and Rose work out what's going on? WIP. Ten and Rose. CHAPTER SIX NOW ADDED.
1. Prologue

_This is going to be my first multi-chapter story, so bear with me ... I'm trying to build up suspense!_

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Chapter One

Private Arthur Frobisher had seen a lot of things in his relatively short life. He'd seen countries fall, cities destroyed and children sent away from their homes. He'd seen Nazi aeroplanes fly full tilt towards him, shooting at him with German machine guns. He'd seen some of his best friends get shot down over the English Channel fighting in the Battle Of Britain. He'd seen some of his best friends come back form the dead as those who were missing , presumed dead, were brought back from Dunkirk during Operation Dynamo. And Private Arthur Frobisher was only just 23 years old.

Yes, Private Arthur Frobisher had seen a lot of things in his relatively short life. Some of the things he was grateful he'd witnessed … some of the things he wished he could never see again.

But one thing that Private Arthur Frobisher had never seen, not even in his wildest nightmares, was a monster. And right now, in the cockpit of his Spitfire, watching the ocean come towards him terrifyingly fast … right now was the last place Private Arthur Frobisher would expect to see a monster.

It came up suddenly, as if it had appeared out of thin air. He barely had time to acknowledge its presence before he was ripped from his cockpit in a blaze of fire. His frantic mind knew that he was surely going to die – there was no way he could survive the impact if he wasn't in his aeroplane – and before his world went black, he felt sharp pain in his left side, as if something had torn into him, and he knew it was the monster. He knew that the monster was beside him, attacking him, and he knew then that he had no chance of survival.

As Private Arthur Frobisher lost consciousness, he realised that it was the monster who had saved his life. The monster saved his life and he did not know how or why, but he knew that he would surely have died if it hadn't have been for the monster, visible only for moments, and now gone from sight. The monster had been real enough, that much he was sure of at the time – but right now, the only thing that Private Arthur Frobisher could do was to thank the monster that saved his life just before his mind was engulfed in darkness.

Twenty minutes later, Private Arthur Frobisher was found, barely alive and bleeding profusely from a wound in his left side, by the rescue services, floating amongst the wreckage of his Spitfire.

Everyone agreed he was lucky to have survived such an impact with just a shrapnel wound in his abdomen.

Very lucky indeed.


	2. Spare Time

Chapter Two

"That … was … AMAZING!" Rose yelled breathlessly as she and the Doctor bundled themselves back into the TARDIS after another good run. She skipped over to the console and dumped an armful of strange-looking objects down before settling herself down to inspect them all properly, a look of intense awe and excitement on her flushed face. She grinned over at the Doctor, who was busy locking the TARDIS doors. "Those roller-coasters wiped the FLOOR with Alton Towers!"

"I told you, didn't I?" said the Doctor, smiling slightly as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and leaned against the wall.

"And that last one," continued Rose, as if she hadn't heard the Doctor, "when it went upside down and stayed there for AGES before dropping everyone out of the cars –" She leapt up and started trying to recreate the effect for the Doctor, forgetting that he had been sitting in the roller-coaster car next to her. The Doctor merely smiled a little more widely.

"Didn't I tell you?"

"And then the anti-gravity thingy kicked in," she said, stopping her frantic running and attempting to imitate a zero-gravity environment to little success, "and we was just floating around –"

"What did I tell you?"

Exhausted, Rose flopped down on the floor at the Doctor's feet and grinned up at him breathlessly.

"That … was … AMAZING!"

The Doctor grinned down at her and stepped lightly over her before bounding over to the console to clear the various souvenirs off the console.

"That's the beauty of a custom-made theme park, y'see," he said as he threw a stuffed toy at Rose in an attempt at making her get up off the floor. It didn't work. "You can control anything you want to. In this case, gravity. Marvellous, what the Jianese can do. Fancy building a whole planet just for a theme park! It beggars belief." He paused thoughtfully. "Must generate a hell of a revenue for them."

"Yeah, s'pose, whatever," Rose said sleepily, clearly not listening. The stuffed toy was far more useful as a pillow for her head than the floor was. "Whatever they did, it was amazing." She yawned widely before a thought dawned on her and she immediately became full of energy again, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Can we go again? I wanna check out that vertical drop one again …"

"Yes, yes, if we have to," the Doctor said dismissively, frowning slightly, "although I'm not sure that last ghost train agreed with me." He patted his stomach nervously and let out a slight burp. "Probably shouldn't have eaten that fifth stick of candy floss first, admittedly, but that's beside the point …"

Rose giggled as the Doctor cleared his throat and turned to look at her, his eyebrow raised mischievously.

"Anyway," he continued, "I thought you wanted to go back to Earth for a bit?"

Rose gaped.

"What – and go on the Colossus?" she said incredulously. "After going on THAT?" She pointed towards the TARDIS doors and scoffed as the Doctor grinned. "Colossus is a stroll in the park after THAT bad boy of a roller coaster."

"So Earth is back on the waiting list for a bit?" said the Doctor, fighting to keep a grin off his face. If he knew Rose – which of course he did, having shared a close encounter with the Time Vortex with her – a trip to Earth in another time was never on the waiting list. For Rose, it was all about the time travel. She could marvel at the many different planets and space stations that the Doctor had taken her to, but if there was one thing that Rose loved more than anything was seeing her own planet's future and history. He raised an eyebrow at her. "No more Earth time travel adventures?"

"Nah," said Rose, finally getting up and walking over to her pile of souvenirs. She picked up a plastic-looking object and began to examine it. She suddenly stopped and looked up at the Doctor with a mischievous look in her eyes. "Unless …" she began.

_I KNEW it_, thought the Doctor triumphantly. Fighting back a grin, he leaned forward and pushed a button on the plastic object Rose was holing, causing it to change colour and jump out of Rose hands to perform a tap-dance on the console.

"Unless?" he prompted her. Rose tried to sound nonchalant as she watched her souvenir finish its dance and revert back to its original shape and colour.

"I mean … I don't wanna impose anything …" She looked up at the Doctor and forced her request out quickly, almost as if she was worried the Doctor would refuse her request. She knew he wouldn't, but it had become a little game of theirs whenever she wanted to return to Earth – just to wind the Doctor up about his claim of 'not doing Domestic' all those adventures ago. "I don't s'pose could we go back to World War Two again?" The Doctor suppressed the urge to roll his eyes as Rose continued hastily. "I mean, without the scary kids in gas masks and nanogenes and air raids and stuff. I quite liked it last time apart from all that."

"Nothing to do with Captain Jack, I suppose?" the Doctor asked cheekily, smiling at Rose as she blushed slightly.

"No, no, of course not, no!" she said hurriedly, not looking at the Doctor. He grinned.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," he muttered. Rose hit him on the arm and giggled. He smiled warmly at her.

"Well, I can't guarantee that there won't be any nasty surprises," he admitted, "but I'm sure we can dispense with scary kids in gas masks and nanogenes and air raids … and … stuff."

"Nice one!" said Rose, grinning widely. She watched happily as the Doctor bounded around the console, pushing buttons and holding down levers.

"Flip on the dimensional stabiliser, would you?" he said, pumping the vortex loop. Rose obliged, thankful that this new Doctor was at least that bit more polite when he let her help fly the TARDIS. As the Doctor looked at Rose, they grinned at each other.

"Second World War, here we come," he said, flipping a row of switches and turning a handle. "Any preference as to where we end up?"

"Nah, I'm good," Rose said, turning up the vector tracker at a nod from the Doctor. "You choose."

"Human generosity," chuckled the Doctor sarcastically. "Never fails to surprise me." He flicked a few more switches and grinned widely as the engines ground into life. "Hold on to your souvenir hat."


	3. A Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Chapter Three

The White Cliffs of Dover were one of the most recognisably British sights of the Second World War. They were the first things that sailors and pilots would see as they arrived, and their imposing nature made them an icon. In Napoleonic times, a network of secret underground tunnels had been excavated within the cliffs, in preparation for an attack from the French. The tunnels were disbanded after the attack never came, and when the war with Germany started the British military found themselves with a perfect location to carry out their most top secret military operations. They strengthened the existing tunnels and extended the exiting network, creating five levels of tunnels spanning several hundred metres below Dover Castle and creating tunnels that would have been several miles in length of they had been made into one long tunnel.

In early 1941, the tunnels were at their most industrious. And in one small section of one of the less busy tunnels, a faint breeze and an odd grinding noise could have been heard by someone passing by. As it happened, there was no-one nearby, which was lucky for them – anyone passing by would have had a heart attack at the sight of a police box materialising in the middle of a tunnel, and a tall, gangly man in a pinstripe suit and light brown calf-length coat emerging from inside it.

The Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS and looked around. Frowning slightly, he strode out and walked towards the nearest wall, looking up at the light fixings and then down at the floor. As he looked around, his thoughts were momentarily interrupted by Rose

"Right …" she said, following the Doctor out of the TARDIS and looking around intently. "Where are we? I mean, _when_ are we? I mean, I know we're in the Second World War, but what year?"

But the Doctor didn't hear her. As he continued to inspect their surroundings, he absent-mindedly whistled the opening bars of "There'll Be Bluebirds Over The White Cliffs Of Dover". He scratched one of the walls with his fingernail and examined it closely as he continued to whistle, before looking up and down the tunnel with an amused expression on his face. Rose caught this expression and frowned.

"Doctor?" she asked. "When are we?" She followed the Doctor's gaze down the tunnel and a thought struck her. "_Where_ are we? I thought we were going back to—"

"D'you know," he began, not having been listening to Rose, "the TARDIS never ceases to amaze me. I set the co-ordinates for London, and instead I get Dover." He rolled his eyes and walked back over to his ship, giving it an appreciative pat. "Typical."

"Dover?" Rose said dubiously. "We're in Dover?"

"Yup," the Doctor confirmed. "The famous White Cliffs of Dover, to be precise. Although how we managed to end up here, I'll never know …"

"Mickey's mate Stan used to come here all the time on booze cruises," she told him, looking around absently. She began to stroll up and down the tunnel back and forth past the TARDIS. "Brought back half a truckload of Stella Artois once. Took us months to drink it all." Rose stopped dead in her tracks as she suddenly realised what the Doctor had said to her. _Cliffs?_

"Hang on …" she said slowly. "The White Cliffs of Dover? As in, those whacking great chalk things?"

"Yup," The Doctor said, grinning. "Those whacking great chalk things." He scratched the wall again and showed Rose. "That's what this is. Chalk."

"But …" This didn't make sense. "They're cliffs."

"Your point being?"

"Cliffs are by the sea."

"Yeah?"

"We're underground."

The Doctor smiled at Rose's logic. He decided that his newest incarnation was much fonder of humans than his last one. Yes, they were still stupid apes, but it wasn't their fault – they just hadn't fully realised their potential yet. Human beings would be great one day, once they'd evolved bigger and faster brains. _I'm definitely recycling Four,_ he thought to himself. _Humans could very well be my favourite species again._

Rose raised an eyebrow at the Doctor as he looked at her with a slight smile. He wasn't being patronising at all, but she still felt a little stupid occasionally when she got something wrong. She did appreciate the new Doctor not insulting humans on a daily basis, but that didn't stop her from feeling silly every now and then. After all, he was a Time Lord. He knew more than her entire planet ever would. And right now, she felt very silly indeed for pointing out that they were, in fact,underground.

"Aren't we?"

"Well," said the Doctor gently, not wanting to make Rose feel inferior, "it depends on what you mean by 'underground'. Technically, we are below ground level. However, we are also technically above sea level. So I'd say we're _in_ the ground rather than _under_ it."

Rose raised an eyebrow and sighed.

"Just when I thought you were starting to show a bit of normality …"

"We're definitely in the 20th century," he continued. "The electric light fittings say as much. All we have to do is find someone nearby who can tell us what the year is."

"Someone nearby?" Rose said incredulously. It was at times like this when she wondered who of the two of them had the more common sense. "Doctor, we're in the middle of a tunnel, in the middle of a cliff. Why would there be anybody about? There's _obviously_ no people anywhere _near_ here!"

The Doctor opened his mouth to object – if they were in the _late_ 20th century (which he hoped they weren't), the tunnels would be _swarming_ with guided tours and tourists taking photographs – but before he got round to answering Rose, a noise interrupted him. Distantly, he heard the sound of a bell ringing. He and Rose turned their heads in the direction of the bell, which was getting slowly and steadily louder. Clearly, they were not as underground as they thought. The Doctor looked round at Rose and raised an eyebrow.

"What does that sound like to you?" he asked.

"I dunno …" Rose said truthfully. She thought wildly for something intelligent to say and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "An ambulance, maybe?" Stupid idea. Ambulances weren't underground! "But—"

"Now, why would they bring an ambulance to a place where there are no people?" The Doctor grinned smugly and grabbed Rose's hand as he began to run in the direction of the ambulance bell. Rose couldn't help feeling exhilarated whenever they were running towards danger, but a tiny little thought at the back of her brain reminded her that, just this once, her big mouth and stupid comments had been right. She grinned at the thought as she and the Doctor ran through the maze of tunnels, towards the nearest exit.


	4. One Of Those Days

_Thanks to everyone who's left reviews so far, much appreciated! Now, because I haven't had enough time or motivation to do sufficient research into this, seeing as it's only a fanfic (translation: I'm a lazy sod), I got one pretty important detail wrong – Privates didn't fly planes in the RAF. Thanks to David Alan Abramczykf__or pointing_ _this out to me and for providing me with the correct ranking system. Henceforth, Private Arthur Frobisher will be **Sergeant Pilot **Arthur Frobisher. I would change the first chapter to fit, but a) I don't know how to do that without deleting the entire story, and b) I really am just lazy._

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Chapter Four

Bright, winter sunlight greeted the Doctor and Rose as they finally emerged from the network of tunnels and found themselves, rather oddly, by a roadside. A quick glance around confirmed to the Doctor that they were indeed by the White Cliffs – in fact, right now they were standing on top of them, with the imposing shadow of Dover Castle behind them and the murky Channel ahead of them. A fierce clifftop wind whipped Rose's hair about, and the Doctor pulled his coat tighter around him as he approached an ambulance unloading a patient.

"Sergeant Pilot Arthur Frobisher," said one paramedic, looking up at the Doctor, "shot down over the Channel. Shrapnel wound to the abdomen, left side. No other obvious injuries." As the first paramedic pushed the stretcher out of the ambulance and the second one pulled it out to make a trolley, the first paramedic peered suspiciously at Rose. She tugged at her hair self-consciously and tried to manoeuvre herself so that she was hiding behind the Doctor. At least he looked like he blended in. Clothes weren't Rose's strong point when it came to trying to blend in. In fact, Rose just wasn't very good at blending in at all. It hadn't been so much of a bother with the last Doctor, seeing as he had never blended in much either, but this Doctor had chosen such a timeless outfit that he seemed to fit in wherever they went.

"Who are you, then?" the first paramedic asked gruffly. The Doctor glanced back at Rose before going forwards to inspect the patient.

"I'm the Doctor," he said, looking down at the man on the stretcher. What was his name? Frobisher. The Doctor frowned. Something here wasn't right.

"Oh, you're the new fish?" the first paramedic confirmed, his expression clearing. Rose grinned. Clearly, getting in would now be a lot easier than she'd expected. If she and the Doctor pretended that these people were meant to be expecting them, they could move around freely without arousing too much suspicion.

"Well," the paramedic continued, mistaking the Doctor's silence for a confirmation, "this should start your shift off nicely. He's all yours. Follow me, I'll show you where everything is."

And with that, the two paramedics wheeled Frobisher down the tunnel, past a row of signs to point out the different sections of what was clearly a hospital, and through a door marked 'Operating Theatre'. As they walked, the paramedics continued talking at the Doctor, who was busy giving Frobisher the once-over with his sonic screwdriver.

"He was shootin' down some Nazi scum over the Channel when one of 'em fired a shot at him and blew his wing off," the first paramedic was saying. Rose listened intently as the Doctor merely glanced up. "His plane crash-landed half a mile from the British coast."

"Yeah," the Doctor said dismissively, "that's great, but –"

"Just as well it was the British coast and not the French Coast," the second paramedic butted in, "'specially with Dynamo last year."

"Dynamo?" said Rose. "That some kind of new aeroplane or something?"

"Have you two not been briefed yet?"

"Not as such, no," the Doctor admitted, smiling up at Rose.

"Best get on with it," the second paramedic said briskly. "Admiral Ramsey's office is on the floor above. And don't worry about Frobisher here, the Chief Surgeon can keep an eye on him. The Admiral don't like to be kept waitin' when there's new fish to worry about."

The two paramedics took Frobisher into the Operating Theatre and dumped him on the operating table. Expecting the Doctor to follow them, they strode out quickly, but the Doctor remained by Frobisher's side, still intent on examining Frobisher's wounds more thoroughly. Noticing that he wasn't moving, Rose, cleared her throat to get the paramedics' attention. The first paramedic walked slowly into the room, occasionally glancing at Rose in a questioning manner.

The Doctor carried on circling Frobisher and probing him gently with the sonic screwdriver, the frown lines in his forehead becoming deeper and deeper. Eventually, the paramedic could contain his curiosity no longer.

"What's that, then?"

"What's what?" the Doctor asked, still examining Frobisher.

"That," said the paramedic, pointing at the sonic screwdriver. When the Doctor didn't answer him, he continued. "That stick thing. What's it doing?"

"Just checking his vitals," he replied, still frowning intently. He finally finished his examination and straightened up, scratching his head.

"Look," he said, finally turning to face the two paramedics, "are you sure it's a shrapnel wound? I can't see any shrapnel …"

"Well, you wouldn't, would ya?" said the second paramedic. "It's in his side!"

"Is it?" the Doctor said disbelievingly as he double-checked the readout from the sonic screwdriver and frowned at Rose. Rose knew that frown well. That frown meant 'Something is wrong here and I am determined to get to the bottom of this'. The Doctor was clearly not convinced by the paramedics' judgement and sighed.

"Yes, well," he said, "I'm sure the surgeon will back me up …" He frowned down at Frobisher once again before looking back at the paramedics

"Alright," he said in a crisp tone, "you two go and alert the surgeons of his condition, and make sure there's a nurse to keep an eye on him until then. I'll just need to consult my assistant here on some medical matters. So, if you'd be so kind as to leave us alone, that would be fine and dandy by me."

He put the screwdriver away as the two paramedics, thoroughly confused, walked briskly out of the room. Checking that there was no-one else around the Doctor leaned in closely towards Rose, speaking in hushed tones and glancing occasionally at Frobisher to check his condition.

"His heartbeat's getting faster but his pulse is slowing down," he said, speaking quickly and with a definite note of urgency. "I think there's an internal wound somewhere in his abdomen but I can't be certain without checking him out. Now, I need you to go back to the TARDIS and –"

"Doctor," Rose said, interrupting him, "I think he'll be ok." The Doctor looked back incredulously, slightly shocked that she had interrupted him mid-flow. "I mean, if that ambulance brought him here, then this place must be some sort of hospital, yeah?"

"Well, yes," he said, unconvinced, "but –"

"Well, they'll be able to sort him out here then, won't they? Let's just get back to the TARDIS and re-set the destination, everything's under control here."

"Rose, look, just do me a favour – go back to the TARDIS, go on the computer and look up 'Operation Dynamo'. I'm sure there's something in the mainframe about it. I've heard about it somewhere before …" He trailed off, apparently lost in thought, muttering to himself. "Dynamo … _Dynamo_ … it's something important, something really, really important …"

Rose was, by now, thoroughly confused. She could see no reason why the Doctor was being so vague about this. She also couldn't understand the reason behind the Doctor's newfound stubbornness – everything here was clearly under control, even if it was odd that there was a hospital in the middle of a cliff.

"But –"

"Go into the TARDIS, down the corridor, left, second left, second right, left, through the double doors and down the slide. Switch on the computer. Username's 'Doctor', password's 'jelly babies'. I'm sorry, Rose, but I need to find out what's wrong with Frobisher," the Doctor said, in a rush. Throughout his little speech at her, he took off his coat, hung it up on a nearby peg, checked Frobisher once more for good measure and straightened his tie before walking briskly away to get himself a surgical gown and mask. Rose sighed and rolled her eyes. Much as she hated to admit it, there did seem to be something slightly fishy about Frobisher's accident. Deciding that there was nothing that she could do about the Doctor's stubbornness, she opted to do as he said and look up this 'dynamo' thing. Now that she came to think of it, 'dynamo' rang a bell for her too …

She wandered through the tunnels, lost in her own thoughts and lost in wondering about why they had ended up here. She wondered exactly _why_ she had chosen World War Two again (admittedly, part of the appeal _had_ been Captain Jack, but she had been loathe to admit this to the Doctor). She wondered if Frobisher's wounds really had been caused by shrapnel. She wondered how the Doctor was, inevitably, going to save the day. She wondered what she would do if she couldn't remember the way to the TARDIS computer.

She wondered where she was.

Bollocks.

She'd become so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed where she had wandered off to. All these tunnels and corridors all looked the same to her. She glanced around, checked a few doors and yelled out for help, but all to no avail. Biting her lip nervously, she set off slightly further down the tunnel.

"Ouch!"

A tall woman in a smart blue uniform rounded the corner and bumped straight into Rose. The woman dropped the large pile of papers she was carrying, sending them flying everywhere. She shrieked and scrabbled over the floor to pick them up.

"Sorry, let me help," Rose said, bending down to help pick the papers up. "I'm Rose."

"Margaret," the woman said, giving Rose a brief smile of thanks. They picked up the papers in silence and as she walked off Rose briefly stopped her.

"Umm … do you work here?"

"Yes, I'm one of the telephone operators. I work in the receiver station," Margaret said, puffing herself up proudly. She smiled gently at Rose. "Are you lost?"

"Yeah, I am …" Rose sighed. "I'm looking for my …" _My magic spaceship that takes me anywhere in time and space, that looks like a Police Box, and that is piloted by a 900-year-old alien? Yeah. Right. _"Oh, never mind. I've just … lost my way," she finished, a little lamely.

"I did that on my first day, too," Margaret said sympathetically. "It's frightfully difficult, finding your way around, isn't it?"

"Yeah …" Rose said, smiling back. "Look, I don't suppose you know where the Admiral's office is, do you? Only me and my friend – well, we're, erm … new … and we got told to get debriefed by the Admiral."

"Admiral Ramsey?" said Margaret. Rose nodded. "Yes, his office is just through here – turn right at the end of this corridor, right again, left, right –"

_MORE directions?_ Rose's dismay at having to remember more directions must have shown on her face, because Margaret suddenly stopped and smiled gently again.

"I know," she said. "Daunting, isn't it?" A thought seemed to strike Margaret as she grinned at Rose. "Would you like me to take you?"

"Thank you SO much," Rose enthused, "that'd be wicked …" Margaret suddenly looked very affronted, and her smile disappeared.

"Don't be silly," she told Rose crisply, straightening her back. "I know Admiral Ramsey can be mean, but that doesn't make me a bad person for taking you to him!"

"What?"

"Well, there's no need to call me a wicked person for it!"

"No," said Rose, exasperated. "I meant … look, it doesn't matter." She sighed again and forced calmness into her voice. "Thank you very much for offering to take me to the Admiral's office. That would be very nice of you."

Margaret looked rather suspicious of Rose. Rose tried her best to remain impassive, simply smiling fixedly at Margaret. After a while Margaret, narrowed her eyes.

"That's quite alright," she said. Rose sighed inwardly at this acceptance of an apology. "It's this way, follow me." Margaret stalked off down a corridor, leaving Rose to try and keep up. This was going to be one of those days.


	5. Into The Fire

Chapter Five

"Swab, please."

A young nurse in surgical overalls turned around and picked up a cotton swab from the metal tray behind her, handing it over to the chief surgeon silently. She moved around the table to get a better view of the patient, sidling around quietly so as not to distract the surgeon. Consequently, she managed to bump into a tall man with ruffled brown hair and large brown eyes, the rest of his face hidden by a surgical mask. From the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners slightly, she guessed he was smiling apologetically at her, but she was only guessing after all. She ducked her head modestly as she shifted past him and positioned herself next to the patient's head.

The Doctor carried on staring intently at Frobisher, whose life was currently in the hands of a rather pompous and slightly arrogant surgeon. In his surgical mask and gown, the Doctor was able to stay relatively unnoticed – just as well, he surmised. If this place was what he thought it was, then it would have been very difficult for him and Rose to have gained this much access without specialist clearance. From past experience, he knew that the Armed Forces were funny like that.

As the surgeon continued to work on Frobisher, the Doctor walked slowly round, inspecting the surgical tools and instruments. He smiled fondly behind his mask as he marvelled at how far human technology had come. Yes, humans were definitely back on his list of favourite species, even if his previous self hadn't appreciated them as much.

Occasionally a nurse would glance up at the Doctor, but because of his quite nature and authoritative appearance, they didn't register his presence. As the chief surgeon cleaned out Frobisher's wound some more, he started talking to a nearby surgeon about the state of Frobisher's wounds.

"Yes, there's a lot of internal bleeding …" mutter the chief surgeon, pointing a particular area out. "Mainly centred around the liver." The Doctor looked up sharply, his interest piqued. He frowned seriously as he made his way back towards the operating table to take a closer look.

"The shrapnel must still be embedded somewhere," continued the chief surgeon. "See, there's an entry wound here consistent with shrapnel injuries, but no exit wound." He poked around for a moment before tutting to himself. "Damn, it's bleeding again … nurse, more swabs." He clicked his fingers impatiently. "Quickly, please."

The Doctor decided to try and make himself useful by passing some swathes of cotton wool to the chief surgeon. The chief surgeon didn't even look up, let alone thank him. _He'll thank me when I've saved his planet_, thought the Doctor, half-jokingly, half-mutinously.

"God, it's like someone's opened the floodgates in here …" the chief surgeon said, with a hint of concern in his voice. He looked at the nearest nurse and indicated the patient notes on the table nearby. "Is this man a haemophiliac?"

"Nothing on his medical records, sir," the nurse said, flicking through the notes. The Doctor shifted to one side to give himself a better view of the situation. Frobisher was anaesthetised and connected to so many wires that he barely looked like a real human being. The Doctor almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"_**Everything has its time. Everything dies."**_

_Now isn't your time, Frobisher. Now isn't your time. I can't feel sorry for you if you don't fight. You've got the best working on you, and if you don't fight then – _

"Odd …" mused the chief surgeon, interrupting the Doctor's thoughts. "I can't find the shrapnel anywhere … it seems to have vanished …"

The Doctor looked up brusquely, frowning first at the surgeon and then down at Frobicher's injury.

"Perhaps he ingested some form of anti-coagulant?" suggested another surgeon.

"Maybe them Germans are gettin' clever," said a young nurse conspiratorially. "Puttin' that anti-coagulant stuff on the shrapnel so's the sound keeps bleedin'."

"Think logically, Sally," the chief surgeon snapped condescendingly. The Doctor shot him a disapproving glance. "Firstly, how would the anti-coagulant get onto the shrapnel, and secondly, why is there no shrapnel?"

_Fantastic. I love the way the human race has the infinite capacity to rationally explain away anything they don't understand._

"No, this is obviously a severed artery …" continued the chief surgeon. "I just need to find it and fix it …" The young nurse lowered her gaze again and busied herself with tidying the surgical instruments, clearly embarrassed at having been put down by such a senior member of staff. The Doctor watched as she blinked away some tears, and felt a surge of pity for her. The poor girl had only been trying to help, and the man she looked up to and respected had trodden her into the ground.

"Now, let me try something …" the chief surgeon muttered, holding his hand out as the nurse passed him a couple of surgical clamps. The Doctor tried to move in to watch what the surgeon was going to do, but out of the corner of his eye he spotted something … odd. Something … very odd.

The blood that had been continuously seeping out of Frobisher's wound had soaked through the numerous swathes of cotton wool which had been placed there in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. Frobisher had been bleeding to profusely that his blood had seeped right through and was now gently dripping onto the operating room floor, in a steady movement. Drip. Drip. Drip.

But it wasn't this dripping that caught the Doctor's attention. It was the pauses inbetween.

Drip. Drip. Pause.

Drip. Pause.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Pause.

_The pauses aren't regular._

Drip. Drip. Pause.

_What the …?_

Bending down to watch the blood, the voices of the surgeons and nurses continued as meaningless noise to the Doctor. As he watched, the drips of blood appeared to do something impossible on Earth – they disappeared. The drops fell regularly enough, but every so often one drop would fall and vanish into thin air. It didn't hit something else on the way down, it didn't congeal, it wasn't affected any way. It just disappeared. Without warning.

Suddenly, the drops of blood stopped disappearing. It was as if something – somehow – knew the Doctor was watching. Something knew that the Doctor was observing these odd happenings and was making a conscious effort to stop them. Slightly shaken and frowning deeply, the Doctor stood up slowly and swept silently from the room.

* * *

"… eight months we've been together, and he keeps threatening to propose!"

"Seriously?"

"I swear! I mean, I only met him because he'd been hurt in Operation Dynamo and he needed looking after." Margaret and Rose were walking down one of the long, chalky corridors, chatting animatedly as if they were long-lost friends. Rose was gradually beginning to learn how to blend into the different time periods, managing to adapt her choice of words and know when to hold her tongue. She smiled as Margaret blushed. "He was on one of the wards, I was passing through one evening and he asked me for a light. I told him smoking wasn't allowed on the wards, and anyway I wasn't a nurse, so I couldn't help him. He just smiled and said that was ok, as long as I gave him a kiss to make up for it."

"Really?"

"Honest, I'm not making this up! He was so cheeky!"

They giggled together as they rounded a corner, passing a doctor in a crisp white coat who frowned at them disapprovingly. Margaret stifled her laughter as Rose bit her lip, but as soon as the doctor had gone they chuckled again.

"Honestly, though," sighed Margaret, "this war's a nightmare."

"Tell me about it," Rose agreed. From the depths of her memory, she recalled a fact that she learned in year nine history. "They're still rationing things, aren't they?"

"They're even rationing stockings," Margaret moaned. She looked around and lowered her voice, whispering to Rose as if she was telling her a secret. "Half the girls here have just got bare legs!"

"No!" whispered Rose back, smiling in spite of herself. "You're kidding!"

"It's true!" giggled Margaret, leaning in closer. "Doris, she's on the station next to mine, she paints her legs with tea after she's shaved them, she told me last week. It's very ingenious, looks just like real stockings." She looked around, as if worried that Doris was nearby and listening to her spilling her secrets. Satisfied that the coast was clear, Margaret continued. "Only problem is, she can't get the line up the back of her leg. The seam, you know. She can't find anything to look real enough."

"Have you tried make up?"

"Make up?" Margaret said, frowning slightly. "What sort of make up?"

"Well …" said Rose, remembering what her nan told her about tea-painted legs during the war. "What about eyebrow pencils? Are they rationed?"

"I hadn't thought …" Margaret muttered. "I suppose, if they are, they're not expensive …"

"Well, there you go," Rose said happily. "Tell Doris to try drawing the stocking seam with her eyebrow pencil, see if that looks any better."

"Gosh," said Margaret, clearly impressed at Rose's idea. "How clever! I'm glad I bumped into you today!" She smiled warmly at Rose, who grinned back. _I'm on a ROLL today!_ All of a sudden, Margaret stopped abruptly outside an office door.

"Well, here we are," Margaret said, turning to face Rose. She smiled, and Rose thought she looked a little apologetic. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks again," said Rose, "for showing me the way." She grinned at Margaret, who was eyeing the door somewhat nervously. She glanced at her watch and Rose suppressed a giggle as Margaret made an obvious show of 'realising' what the time was.

"Goodness, is that the time?" she said, a little too loudly. "Must be off now – there's a war on, after all!"

Rose grinned again as she watched Margaret hurry off back the way they came. _He can't be that bad, surely. _She turned to face the door and, remembering her manners, knocked on the door.

"Come in," said a gruff voice from within. Rose steeled herself and pushed the door open, nervously poking her head round the door. _Into the fire …_


	6. The Monsters Under The Bed

"Frobisher? Frobisher, old chap, can you hear me?"

Sergeant Pilot Arthur Frobisher's eyelashes fluttered briefly before he opened his eyes tentatively. He cast a nervous glance around, trying to acclimatise himself to his surroundings. He looked up at a man he had never seen before, wearing a pinstripe suit and a concerned expression on his face.

"Wh … where am I?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, gingerly struggling into a sitting position. He winced as he felt a dull throb of pain in his side and decided that lying down really was the best option at the moment. Maybe he'd try sitting up later.

"You're in the Annexe level of the tunnels underneath Dover castle," the man said gently, smoothing down Frobisher's bedcovers and perching on the end of his bed. "You gave everyone a bit of a scare back then. They didn't think you'd pull through."

"What 'appened?"

"You tell me."

Frobisher frowned up at the grimy ceiling. He'd been flying over the Channel, shooting down the Germans and then … then he was shot down. Shot down by … no, it couldn't have been. Couldn't have been the Germans, he'd shot them down himself. He was the only one left in the air. He was the only thing there except –

"The monster."

"Monster?"

"There was … I dunno … it all 'appened so quick, like …" Frobisher muttered, still exhausted. "One minute I was shootin' down the Germans, next minute I'm crashin' in the Channel …" A thought suddenly occurred to Frobisher as he looked over at the man.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"What, like the ward doctor?"

"Something like that," he muttered, sighing. The Doctor focussed his attention back on Frobisher as he motioned for him to continue.

"It was huge … like a big bird … only not … it didn't 'ave feathers, just skin, and no beak … and huge long legs … and …" Frobisher gulped and frowned at the Doctor. "You think I'm crackers, don't ya?"

"Nothing of the sort," the Doctor assured him. "You've had a shock, clearly, but that doesn't mean you'd make something like this up." He shuffled closer to Frobisher and lowered his voice. "So this … bird. How big would you say it was?"

"Massive," whispered Frobisher. "Huge. Like an albatross. 'Cept it didn't 'ave no beak. It didn't even 'ave a mouth. Not one I could see, anyways. It was just a head with eyes. No nose, no ears, no nuffink … just eyes." Frobisher closed his eyes for a moment, as if struggling to remember. "'S funny … but it didn't 'ave scary eyes. Y'know, like what monsters normally 'ave."

"Normally?" the Doctor said, confused. "You've seen other monsters?"

"Everyone 'as," Frobisher said. The Doctor grew worried. "Everyone in this place'll 'ave seen a monster, Doctor. When you was a kid, there was always a monster in your cupboard or under your bed."

The Doctor let out a breath he'd been unconsciously holding and gave a slight smile.

"The monsters with glowing red eyes," the Doctor said sympathetically. "The monsters you knew would eat you as soon as you got out of bed to tell mummy."

Frobisher nodded weakly. "But this monster weren't like that," he insisted, staring intently at the Doctor. "Its eyes … they were friendly, like. The sort of eyes you'd want to see when you're 'avin' a bad dream. It was like the monster was tryin' to tell me that I was gonna be OK …"

"Well, it was right, wasn't it?" the Doctor said cheerfully. "You're fine, and you're going to _be_ fine. Now, get some rest." He stood up as Frobisher laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes. As he walked out in search of Rose, he became engrossed in his thoughts.

_If Frobisher's describing what I think he is … I'd have to check the TARDIS database first, cross-reference the last sightings et cetera … I s'pose, if he's had that big a shock, he might just be delusional … but it's too much of a coincidence for him to have described that …_

* * *

_**Data for HAMR unit 2864**_

_**PROCESSING DATA  
**__**PROCESSING DATA  
**__**PROCESSING DATA  
**__**PROCESSING DATA  
**__**PROCESSING DATA  
**__**PROCESSING DATA  
**__**PROCESSING DATA**_

_**Subject acquired.  
**__**Confirm status …  
**__**DNA extracted. Confirming molecular structure …  
**__**Molecular structure successfully replicated. Preparing to commence physical reconstruction …  
**__**Physical reconstruction completed.** _

Margaret hurried along the corridor a short way before stopping to catch her breath. She checked her watch again and noted that she still had five minutes of her tea-break left. Thinking for a moment, she walked off in the direction of the ladies' toilets, figuring she could always make up an excuse for being late back if she bumped into anyone else.

She smiled to herself, Rose had been nice enough, if a little oddly dressed. She supposed it was some new fashion here in Dover. Rose had sounded awfully common – perhaps that was just how people here dressed. Having been sent here from the outskirts of London (and having prided herself on being given a relatively good education) Margaret often unconsciously saw herself as slightly superior to most of the girls here, who were 'local yokels' in her eyes. Rose, however, hadn't seemed particularly common. Indeed, she'd appeared quite intelligent, especially for someone so young. Perhaps the locals weren't all bad.

Lost in thought, Margaret barely noticed a man walking past her with curiously glazed eyes. He walked along the corridor, stopped, then slowly turned his head back to look at Margaret.

_**Potential new subject spotted.  
**__**Possibility of use for other HAMR units?**_

_**SEARCHING  
**__**SEARCHING  
**__**SEARCHING  
**__**SEARCHING  
**__**SEARCHING  
**__**SEARCHING**_

_**Match successful.  
**__**HAMR unit 3061 to acquire subject.  
**__**Confirming subject …**_

"'Scuse me, miss!" he shouted, a little too loudly. Margaret turned to look. He walked towards her slowly, looking a little confused. "I'm lookin' for a doctor. Can't remember his name. Don't s'pose you know where the doctor's offices are?"

"Sorry, no!" Margaret said apologetically. "I work in the receiver station, I barely go to the Annexe level unless I get ill!"

The man was staring rather disconcertingly at her, studying her face. Margaret blushed self-consciously.

"I can see if I can get a message down there for you, get someone to come and pick you up," she offered, slightly flustered. "What's your name?" He blinked slowly. Margaret suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and sneer at him. Perhaps the local yokels really were as common as she'd first thought. If they couldn't remember their own names, what use would they be in a war?

_**Subject confirmed.  
**__**HAMR unit 3061 to acquire subject.  
**__**HAMR unit 2864 to assist.**_

"What's your name?" she repeated, somewhat patronisingly.

_**Information about subject of HAMR unit 2864 required.**_

_**SEARCHING  
**__**SEARCHING  
**__**SEARCHING  
**__**SEARCHING**_

_**Information acquired.**_

"Frobisher," he replied finally. "Arthur Frobisher."


End file.
